Long Dark Street
by dannica webb
Summary: Abby and Tony are still keeping their new relationship a secret when Tony receives an undercover assignment from Jenny...to get close to Jeanne Benoit. Tony has sacrificed his freedom for his country. Now he will have to sacrifice his heart.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Long Dark Street

Author: dannica webb

Rating: FR-15 (may increase)

Fandom: NCIS

Pairing: Tony/Abby, Tony/Jeanne

Status: In progress

Category: Romance, Angst

Spoilers: Late third season, all of the fourth season, possibly early fifth season

Summary: Abby and Tony are still keeping their new relationship a secret when Tony receives an undercover assignment from Jenny...to get close to Jeanne Benoit. Tony has sacrificed his freedom for his country. Now he will have to sacrifice his heart.

Her favorite thing about him is how, when she's sitting on his lap, she fits neatly against him so she can tuck her head under his chin. Being rather tall, Abby's always had a thing for guys who are strong enough to make her feel sheltered, and Tony's just enough taller than her that they fit together like the pieces of a well-crafted puzzle. She likes how his arms fit around her waist, how he can hold both of them up when she tackles him in a hug. She loves that he makes her safe.

Right now, though, he's just making her nervous.

She's sitting on the island in the middle of his kitchen, dangling her feet against the lower cabinets and wishing she could pretend away the wrongness that's settled in her chest, making it a little hard to breathe. Her eyes follow him as he walks over to the stove and turns to face her. She traces the shape of his muscular arms underneath the long-sleeve button-down black shirt he's wearing; it's one of her favorites. It's soft; she knows exactly what it would feel like to rest her head on his shoulder right now, her cheek pressed against the material. She swallows down the consuming need to seek refuge against him, to breathe in the subtle hint of cologne and her favorite patchouli soap on his skin. Reflexively, she hugs her arms around her middle in order to keep from reaching out.

"We need to talk." His hands are pressed back against the edge of the stove, supporting his weight as he rests against it, his eyes drifting over her mostly-bare shoulder but not meeting her own. His gaze is so heavy it's nearly a caress, but not of the desire that usually causes a mirroring warmth low in her belly. His eyes are full of grief, of confusion, and she's cold with foreboding.

The storm has come without warning, and now all of a sudden it is on top of her. She'd thought that with Gibbs's return, things were going just perfectly, until they drove home to Tony's from work tonight. Usually he regales her with synopses of the movies he wants to show her after they cook dinner, or she reads aloud from some forensics journal or music magazine, but tonight is different. Tonight he'd said absolutely nothing after opening the car door for her, and the silence was nearly suffocating. She'd flipped radio stations the whole fifteen minute drive in an attempt to keep it from feeling like an hour, to no avail. She'd known something was well amiss since before they walked into his apartment, even now is expecting the shoe to drop, but all she wants to do is hide and pretend it's not about to happen.

Instead, she forces her body to stillness. Anxiety usually makes her fidget, but right now, she's terrified of losing control. Her hands come down to grip the edge of the counter, and she can feel the wood leaving an impression in her palms. The pain gives her a second to focus. "About what?" she asks, her voice reeking of falsely cheerful curiosity, mostly because she's trying to keep resignation from creeping in.

"The director has given me a mission." The choice of words lends his statement weight, gives it authority. Abby knows with absolute certainty that Tony is about to break things off with her, and breathes a small sigh of relief through the stifling pain winding its way slowly around her heart that it's because of the job and not because he thinks they aren't good together, although admittedly she doesn't know which is worse. She's suddenly regretting their decision to keep their relationship a secret for awhile, but she knows Jenny wouldn't have done this unless there was no other way. Her eyes travel over Tony, drinking him in as if to imprint him in her memory, as she waits for him to continue, praying the mission isn't too dangerous, knowing the prayer is futile.

She expects him to say he has to go to Europe, or maybe the Middle East, that he'll be gone for a few weeks or months. What he says next is so far from her expectations, from the way she sees this conversation playing out in her mind, that her eyes snap back up to his face and she can't suppress it when her lip trembles slightly.

"There's evidence that a French weapons supplier is providing to terrorists. His daughter lives in D.C. Jenny wants...she wants me to get close to her."

Abby wishes she had to ask what that meant, wishes she didn't already know, wishes she could pretend ignorance. The defeat in his eyes gives away the full meaning; she doesn't even need him to say, "I'm sorry," out loud, with such regret, to know this is the end of something.

"Never say you're sorry," she says automatically, hopping down from the counter. She doesn't think, just turns to walk in the direction of his bedroom to gather her things.

He stops her, a hand on her arm. She looks up at him, the flicker of hope in his eyes doing more damage than the regret ever could. "Maybe – "

She reaches up to press a finger against his lips. "I won't endanger.... No." She knows what he's asking; even if she could bear to think of another woman sleeping where she's slept with him, even if she could imagine sharing him with his cover, she won't endanger an NCIS mission because she needs him like she needs air. She won't.

He stands still in the middle of the room, looking vaguely lost, as she walks into the bedroom and pulls out a duffel bag. She packs her things in silence, willing her hands not to shake.

Willing the tears not to fall. At least not until she's out of these walls that seem to be closing in around her.

A few escape unwittingly when her eyes flicker over the roses hanging on the wall. The ones that started it all, she thinks, the ones she gave him after she "actually did send him to prison," as he so eloquently put it.

_She could tell it was late; moonlight was filtering through the small sub-basement windows in the lab. She turned off Major Mass Spec and gave her CPU a goodnight pat. Even after she'd given him the flowers and he promised he didn't hate her for putting him in prison, worry had still gnawed at her insides all day; she didn't really think Tony could hate anyone, either, but she wanted to make sure he was okay._

_She blamed it on the nightmares, the ones that kept waking her up ever since Chip was caught. Not of Chip actually using the knife on her, but of Tony, trapped in that cell. Of her being forced to testify at his trial. Of clasping his fingers with her own through the bars. She'd woken up crying every single night, sometimes several times a night, sick to her stomach._

_It's this that drove her to go into the elevator and press the main floor button. When she stepped out, the squadroom was dark and she could tell almost everyone had already left for the evening, but she saw the lamp on above his desk, where he sat finishing up a file for their most recent case._

_When she reached the edge of his desk, she trailed her fingers along it uncertainly. He looked up from the file. "Hey, Abbs."_

_"Hi," she said, the corner of her mouth quirking up ever so slightly."How's it going?"_

_"S'okay. You know. Paperwork." He gestured to the file. "Heading out?"_

_She felt stupid for standing there, for not wanting to let him out of her sight, but the tenderness in his eyes as he studied her face loosened the knot in her stomach just a smidge. "I guess so," she said. "I just...wanted to check on you."_

_He pushed his chair away from the desk and reached for her hand. She let his fingers curl loosely around hers, let him draw her forward and down until she was sitting sideways on his lap. Her head fell onto his shoulder with a sniffle and a sigh, her eyes drifting closed as a few wayward tears escaped from beneath her lashes. He let go of her hand to encircle her in both of his arms, his cheek resting on her hair._

_They stayed like that for a little while before she trusted herself to speak again. "I missed you a lot when...when you were gone."_

_"I missed you, too."_

_From him it was a weighty declaration; usually she was the one who initiated physical contact, who made the grand and sweeping gestures. She nuzzled softly into his neck when he reached up to stroke her hair, then pressed her lips lightly against his shoulder before raising her head once more._

_She didn't meet his eyes at first, her own downcast as the images of him behind those bars rose unbidden to her mind. "I can't sleep," she said. "I keep seeing..."_

_"Shh," he whispered, bringing one hand up to tilt her chin up so she was looking at him, his other arm still cradling her against his body. "I know." And he did; she could see in the light creases under his eyes that she wasn't the only one having difficulty sleeping these days. "But it's okay, Abbs. I'm here, and we're okay." His eyes held hers as he said this. "It's okay. I promise."_

_She nodded, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She trusted him, and when she was with him like this she began to believe that maybe the nightmares would go away. "'Kay," she whispered back. "You'll understand if I don't let you out of my sight for awhile, though, right?" She said it half-jokingly, in case she'd need to brush it off, in case he wouldn't understand._

_But he did understand, because he always understood. "Long as you don't mind watching me eat dinner," he said with a grin, brushing his lips against her forehead. He lifted her off of his lap and grabbed his coat, recapturing her hand as they walked towards the elevator._

It had been the first time he'd ever held her like that, and later, after he'd cooked her dinner and they'd settled on the couch to re-watch Firefly for the umpteenth time, it was the first time he'd ever really kissed her, too.

She knows he loves her, knows it like she knows herself, like she knows music and fingerprinting and the makeup of DNA. With absolute certainty. That's what makes it so damned hard.

She tries to keep herself from thinking about going home alone as she walks into the bathroom to grab her shampoo and her toothbrush. Her favorite black lipstick. If his mission is successful, another woman's cosmetics will be sprawled over the pretty mosaic tile lining his sink. She reminds herself to breathe, to take things one step at a time.

Otherwise she'll never make it out of his apartment in one piece.

When she turns off the light and emerges from his bedroom, he's still standing where she left him, but there are tear tracks evident on his face. She wants to just leave, but she can't, not when the agony in his eyes is such a mirror of her own that the force of it makes her want to double over. She walks to where he's standing, dropping the bag at her feet and reaching to cup his face in her hands, brushing the tears away with her thumbs.

She doesn't say it will be okay, because while she can hide the extent of her own sadness and fear, she could never outright lie to him. She just meets his gaze with all the strength she can muster and says, "I'll still be here. When it's over." He nods mutely, his hands coming up to rest on top of hers. He turns his face to press a kiss in her palm and the sensation stays with her as her hands come down once more. "And I'll always be your friend. No matter what."

The last three words are added on in a fierce whisper, and then she reaches down to grab the duffel bag. When she walks out, she can feel him turn to watch her go, the heat of his gaze on her back as she opens the door. She fights the urge to look back, flinching when she hears the door close behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Catastrophe comes quietly, wreaking its havoc with the barest of hints, leaving no glaring evidence behind when it's gone. This is what kills her, that one second she can be riding the elevator up to the lab, tugging him out of his chair with a secret smile, skipping ahead of him down to the car like any other day. And the next, the world has moved underneath her.

She'd wanted badly to take him into her arms one last time, to have him kiss away her fears. They could have made the most of the moments until he got close to the director's mark. Until it would have given them both away.

But she can't.

From the moment she realized what was different, she'd known if she let their relationship go on she wouldn't have been strong enough to let go. And she knows having to push her away would tear him apart, more than keeping their relationship a secret. She also knows he didn't want to put her through the shitstorm that was sure to be caused by revealing their relationship to the director after the fact, especially with plans to take down this arms dealer likely already in motion.

He's always trying to protect her.

_The three b's – bourbon, basement, boat – had been comforting for Abby, who stayed with Gibbs while Tony spent most of the night in the office trying to track down more leads on Mikel. Gibbs was Abby's most favorite person, next to Tony – well, it was kind of a close call, really – but anyway, she couldn't imagine anywhere else she would rather have been._

_Except in Tony's arms. So when she finished cataloging the last bits of evidence that would put both Mikel and Spooner away, she opened the evidence box with anticipation, tucking the items in carefully. The sooner she got the box back down to the evidence locker, the sooner she could find Tony, who she thought was somewhere with Gibbs, and leave the building feeling safer than she had in days. She knew there would be a tense conversation when Tony finally brought up privately her not informing him, or at least Gibbs, about Mikel, but the fact that she missed him so damned much overrode her anticipation of his anger for her bad judgment call._

_She frowned when her hand brushed a piece of paper and an evidence bag she knew wasn't in the box when she'd closed it before. She reached in to pull out the sheet of paper, her hands beginning to shake as she realized what was written there, in her own handwriting. Unthinkingly she reached for the evidence bag, but when her hand discerned the shape of a gun, she pulled her fingers away as if she'd been burned._

_Nausea overcame her in a thick wave, and she barely noticed Tony stepping into the lab as she pushed past him to run to the bathroom. She knelt in front of the toilet, one hand wrapped around her stomach as she heaved up the meager amount she'd eaten that day, colored in a swish of Caf-Pow! red. She sniffled back the fearful tears pooling behind her eyelids._

_She wasn't sure how fast Tony followed her into the bathroom, but he was there next to her all of a sudden, pressing a damp paper towel to her face. She let him wash and dry her face gently, mostly because she didn't trust her hands to stop shaking long enough to do it herself._

_  
When he was done, he lifted her up, one arm securely around her waist as they walked back into the lab. Wisely, he steered her away from the exam table where the evidence box sat and into her inner office. She sat down in her chair and took a deep breath as he perched on the edge of her desk._

_"Were you even gonna tell me?" she asked shakily, peering up at him from under her dark eyelashes._

_He had the good grace to look abashed at that, his eyes flickering down to their clasped hands and then back up again. "Gibbs thought it best that you not know." She was about to ask him where they found the suicide note when he continued. "I was the one who found Mawher's car. The gun and the note were lying on the passenger seat."_

_She looked up and met his eyes, for once unable to read what she saw there. The tremble in his voice when he spoke next surprised her; Tony rarely ever showed weakness himself, he usually laughed it off."Jesus, Abbs...I was so damn scared...." His voice broke on the words, and she stood, wrapping him in a fierce hug and burying her face in his neck as he whispered, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."_

She shakes off the memory, swallowing hard. No, she can't – won't – ask him, or Jenny for that matter, to put her ahead of what is best for the mission. She just hopes the director is right about what's best.

The stairs down to the parking lot of his building are a blur, and the deepening twilight hides her form well enough not to attract too much attention. She thanks whatever god is watching over her tonight that she'd left her car at his house that morning; she doesn't know if she could have made it in one piece had he insisted on driving her home.

As it is, she's barely got the door unlocked before the tears begin to fall. She sits down hard on the seat and swings her legs into the hearse, then leans her forehead against the steering wheel, the uncontrollable sobs racking her frame.

It's a good fifteen minutes before she even tries to sit up again, and when she does, it makes her slightly dizzy. She reaches for the napkins she keeps in the glove compartment to blow her nose, the sound loud and indelicate. Her hand shakes a little as she sticks the key into the steering wheel, but she manages to make it out on the road alright.

The ride home is a haze, but when she gets to her apartment, the thought of getting out and going upstairs overwhelms her. She considers calling Gibbs, or maybe just showing up unannounced like she would've before – well, before everything changed. She's overjoyed that he's back, but she doesn't trust herself to be able to hide the reason for her feelings from him. And while the comfort of their friendship is still there, she's not sure she really trusts him again. The wounds from his absence are still too fresh.

Then she considers calling McGee, and rejects it out of hand. McGee is like her – too damned curious for his own good sometimes. There's no way she could keep the details of the situation from him, and things are already too complicated. She nearly dials Ziva's number but stops before she makes it to the last digit. She feels a growing kinship with Ziva, and knows the other woman won't push too hard for details, but something keeps her from pressing the call button anyway, and she tosses her phone aside in frustration.

Somehow she makes it up the stairs to her apartment building, and by the time she collapses in the bed and looks over at the clock, it's nearly eleven. If it were anyone else, if this were any other breakup under any other circumstances, she'd put on reruns of something gory and eat Ben and Jerry's until she couldn't move. And she'd get over it.

But Tony was it for her. They'd never talked about it, about where things were, but sometimes she likes to think she was it for him, too. It's not that she'd never been happy in a relationship before, but things had gotten far more serious with him in a few months than in a much longer time period with anyone else. He is her best friend.

She fell for Tony, and so hard she's not sure she'll ever find her way up again. She's not sure she wants to.

***

Tony wasn't expecting her to go so quickly, or so quietly. She's out the door before he can even think of something to say, before he can even think at all. It's merciful; if she'd stayed, if she'd objected, if she'd given him a reason to tell Jenny precisely where she could shove her long-term undercover mission, he's not sure he would have been strong enough.

Usually, he likes to think he's the one who protects her, who gives her strength. It's days like this when he's reminded Abby has a quiet strength all her own.

It's one of the things he loves most about her.

This brings a fresh wave of grief as he sinks to the floor, leaning back against the couch and bringing his legs up to wrap his arms around his knees. He wasn't expecting it to hurt this bad. It's the longest, most serious relationship he's ever had, and he doesn't know why he didn't realize he'd get so attached; she's been his best friend for so long he can't remember a time when her smile wasn't there. She's the sun and the moon. He thinks he never really let her know how much she meant to him.

Time stretches out unbearably and it's pitch dark outside the windows when he finds his feet again. He walks through the bedroom and into the bathroom to wash his face. The room feels sparse without her jewelry and makeup lying around. He doesn't look at his reflection in the mirror.

He curls up in the middle of the bed, on top of the covers, and reaches over for the picture of her that rests on the nightstand. She'd bought him the frame for his birthday, the first time she ever insisted on planning their date.

_"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," he grumbled good-naturedly as she dragged him by the hand towards the park's entrance. _

_She promptly stuck her tongue out at him. "I thought it would appeal to your childish side, DiNozzo. Besides, when's the last time you had fun? I mean, the kind that doesn't involve a barstool and a hot girl. Not that I'm discounting that kind, mind you."_

_He rolled his eyes, ignoring the truth of the statement. "Very cute. Keep it up and I won't win you a teddy bear."_

_She stood on tiptoe to peck his cheek. "You say it but you don't mean it," she added with a smirk, and ran off in the general direction of the cotton candy and funnel cake vendors._

_He caught up with her a few minutes later. She was already carrying a massive bag of cotton candy, which she nearly dropped when he snuck up behind her and tickled her lightly. She turned around to smack him on the shoulder but he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking some of the sugar from her fingertips, holding her gaze._

_When he finally let go of her hand, she bent closer to lick his lips. "You aren't allowed to drive me to distraction yet," she murmured in amused exasperation. "I've got plans for you, DiNozzo."_

_He raised his eyebrows as she pulled away, tugging him along in the direction of the rides and the glittering lights. It was overwhelming and he wanted to stop and look at everything as they passed one stand after another, until she impatiently squeezed his hand and said, "Geez, haven't you ever seen an amusement park before?"_

_He didn't want to wipe away the smile on her face by telling her the truth, that his parents had more than enough money to buy an amusement park but never the time or inclination to actually take him to one. The sound of her laughter as she regaled him with stories from playing pranks on her little brother at the fair banished the shadows from his memory, if only for the afternoon._

_It turned out that her plans for him were mainly to get him positively ill on several exhilaratingly fast rides – "I like to live on the wild side" – and challenge him to a game of bumper cars that was so cutthroat he was still feeling the jarring as they walked to the hot dog stand. She loaded up her hot dog with relish and mustard and kissed away the ketchup on the corner of his mouth, her eyes sparkling with mischief. He found out why afterward when she pulled him in the direction of the Ferris wheel. After the roller coasters and spinning teacups, the slow rocking of the car seemed anticlimactic, until they reached the top and she had her wicked way with him._

_He was breathless from kissing her when they reached the ground again, and held her close to him as they meandered in the direction of the park's entrance, the sun nearly setting completely. He'd almost forgotten his throwaway comment about winning her a stuffed animal when he saw a dart-throwing booth about to close up shop for the night. She didn't say anything, but he could tell by the way the corner of her lips quirked up that she was pleased when he talked the vendor into letting him play a game, and he thanked his lucky stars for his good aim when he made enough points to win her the biggest bear they had._

_She protested a little bit, claiming that it was his birthday after all, so it didn't make sense for him to be the one giving her the present. He was about to tell her that she'd given him the best birthday present he could maybe ever remember getting, but the words got stuck in his throat, so he just used it as leverage to get her to stand still long enough for him to take a picture of her._

_Tony wasn't much for pictures; there were very few memories in his life he'd ever felt the desire to preserve, almost none up until he'd met Abby. The unadulterated happiness he'd seen on her face that day was something he planned to keep._

He traces her face with his fingertips. He'd snapped another picture later when they were in the car; she'd given into exhaustion just moments after he'd pulled out of the parking lot, and made him promise never to show the picture of her leaning against the car window, fast asleep, to anyone, on pain of death and with the reminder that she could very easily murder him and leave no forensic evidence.

He lifts away the glass from the frame, pulling it out from behind the picture of her and the teddy bear and studying it, memorizing the lines of her face, softened by sleep. Soon, he'll have to put the pictures of her away, but tonight is for his memories.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Tony happens to bump into Jeanne Benoit three times at her favorite coffee shop before he first gets her number. She's cute, in a girl next door kind of way; her fresh-faced look reminds him of Abby first thing in the morning, scrubbed clean and without her makeup on. The memory makes him smile briefly, but then it just hurts, so he shoves it down.

The location of their first date, like the coffee shop, is approximately halfway between the university where he is supposed to be working and the hospital where Jeanne actually works. It's an upscale French restaurant, the kind he would never take Abby to, not because she doesn't deserve it, but because she loved the quaint, family-owned Italian place from his apartment more than anything else in the world, except maybe him and Caf-Pow! – or so she was fond of telling him.

_He surprised her one night by turning down a street a few blocks away from his apartment._

_"Tired of cooking me dinner?" she teased as he pulled into the little parking lot across the street._

_He just shrugged good-naturedly and walked around to open the door for her. It had taken her a few weeks to get used to Tony's particular brand of chivalry, and she still beamed up at him every time in that way that intimated her surprise at anyone caring enough about her to make the gesture. It made him feel on top of the world._

_It made him need her to understand she was worth everything._

_Luna's Kitchen was tucked in between a few small shops and a bookstore, which she insisted they had to visit when it was actually open, the neon sign flickering on the dark street. If it weren't the only light on the whole block, it would be easy to miss the restaurant; the building was a converted warehouse, and it looked a little dilapidated and nondescript from outside. He twined his fingers with Abby's as soon as she was out of the car, locking the door and tugging her closer to him, but more for the desire to feel her close than out of a need to ensure her safety._

_The outside of the restaurant gave no hint as to the mayhem inside; he couldn't suppress a grin at Abby's infectious excitement as they wove between tables, making their way through the hustle and bustle towards a table at the back, just off the kitchen. He waved to Elisabetta as she grabbed silverware and ran over from the cash register. _

_"You're in trouble," she said, a smirk coloring her exotic features. She set the wrapped silverware on the table and planted a hand on her hip. "Mamma is positively spitting mad that you haven't been by in weeks."_

_He rolled his eyes at her. "Elisabetta, I'd like you to meet Abby." He reached out to poke the waitress meaningfully. "The reason I haven't been by in weeks. Honestly, as soon as she's met you two, she'll be completely scared off."_

_Abby laughed at that, her eyes sparkling, and stood up to kiss Elisabetta on either cheek. "I'm glad you finally think I'm well-trained enough to bring around your friends, DiNozzo," she said with a mocking glare as she sat back down. "At least I don't pee on the carpet anymore." She punctuated that with a light kick beneath the table._

_"Because I really need all the women in my life ganging up on me." He heaved a long-suffering sigh._

_"My heart breaks for you," Elisabetta said, swooning exaggeratedly . "I'm guessing you're planning to order someday?"_

_"A couple of glasses of the Sangiovese," he said. "And whatever that gorgeous smell is Giovanni's probably trying to hide back there."_

_She grinned. "The special is chicken but that's just 'cause he let the butcher talk him into buying double yesterday. I'll bring you the good stuff." She winked at Abby as she disappeared in the direction of the kitchen._

_He held up a hand as the onslaught of questions spilled over from Abby's side of the table, interspersed with comments about the art adorning the walls. "I worked here summers when I was in college, just to have something to do once I couldn't go home anymore," he said. "Giovanni – Elisabetta's father – taught me everything I know about cooking." He launches into a story about his first kitchen fire, enjoying the way her laugh intermixes with the homey noisiness of conversations drifting through the restaurant._

_Abby was nearly in tears with amusement when their wine arrived along with a plate of steaming garlic rolls. Shooting Elisabetta a grateful look, she broke into a roll with gusto, leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. "This is heaven," she said, then opened her eyes, catching his eyes on her face. He tried not to look too distracted by the way her tongue snuck out to lick at a spot of butter at the corner of her mouth._

_He introduced her around between courses, and she shocked him when she listened to him translate back and forth for Marcella, the intimidating, motherly owner of Luna's, then promptly stood up and greeted the older woman in Italian. Marcella was positively charmed, but he had a hard time imagining anyone not being taken in by Abby's infectious personality._

_They chatted away for awhile before Chiara bounded out of the kitchen, demanding a hug from 'Uncle Tony.' Tony expected the fact that Abby and his adopted niece took to one another like fish to water was what led Marcella to finally pull him away from the table for a few moments and demand he bring her by more often."She's a keeper," the older woman said, her tone daring him to defy her. "And you both need a good meal. You work too hard, _cara_."_

_He kissed her on the cheek, unable to find the words to thank her for the gift of surrogate family – and of acceptance. He knew it mattered to Abby. They watched Abby sitting at the table playing games with Chiara for awhile before Marcella dragged her granddaughter off to "give Uncle Tony some alone time with Aunt Abby."_

_Tony had to nudge Abby out of her chair after their dessert of decadent _zeppole_, which she deemed "better than sex" with a contented sigh, reminding her she'd promised to take him dancing at her favorite club. She took a full half an hour to say goodbye to everyone, even sneaking back into the kitchen to meet Giovanni, before she grabbed Tony's arm and they headed out to the car._

_"Why didn't you tell me you knew Italian?" he asked as they left the restaurant, partly curious and partly accusing._

_Her flirtatious grin sent a shot of desire straight through him. "A woman has to have _some_ secrets, Anthony DiNozzo."_

Jeanne Benoit and Abby Sciuto are as different as night and day. Jeanne is the kind of woman you plan elegant evenings out with; Abby is the woman you have food fights in the kitchen with in the midst of making a four-course dinner. Jeanne loves artsy foreign films; Abby changes the TV to the sci-fi channel and doesn't have to pretend excitement when he says he wants to watch reruns of Magnum.

Tony is eternally grateful for this fact, because it is a constant reminder of his role as Tony Dinardo. Because otherwise he's not sure he wouldn't smell Abby every time he leans in to kiss Jeanne, and he doesn't know if he could bear that. It took him three weeks to even be able to wrap his mind around getting close to Jeanne, three weeks with Jenny breathing down his neck. Though he is a consummate actor, he can't help but thank someone upstairs for the reminder of the dangerous game they are playing, lest he become complacent.

It takes him longer than three weeks to really get it into his head that Abby isn't coming back – that he will have to live with their newly hesitant professional relationship, with only the memory of her lips against his. He notices the sadness underneath her eternal cheer when she thinks he's not looking, and lets McGee go down to pick up results more often than not to spare them both the awkwardness that's settled around them like an unshakeable fog.

He thinks it's around the fifth date when he finally begins to see Jeanne as something other than not Abby. The loss of Abby is a dull ache that sharpens with guilt when he finds himself enjoying the way Jeanne leans in to kiss his cheek or how her face lights up when he visits her at work. He wants her to be just another mark, wishes this was just another op.

He hates Jenny for putting him in this position – not only because he's had to break Abby's heart, but because he will have to break Jeanne's as well. Sometimes he wonders if he still has one.

The night she tells him why she is attracted to him – "you don't lie even about the little things" – he lashes out in anger for the first time in as long as he can remember. He's not even sure later how it happened; one minute he's leaning over the sink and the next he's lying on the floor, picking shards of glass from his clenched fist, the sink smattered with blood.


End file.
